Highway To Hell
by Harlequin99
Summary: Cassidy Gray has always loved American Muscles. So when she finds Sam and Dean's '67 Chevrolet Impala abandoned in a junk yard, she knew she had to buy her. But what she finds when she restores the car, she certainly didn't expect.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey Y'all! _

_This is a Supernatural Fanfic I'm working on - it was originally for Wattpad, but I decided to upload it on here aswell. Link to my Wattpad account is on my profile - so you can read the story on there aswell, and I'll be uploading photo's as well as casting actors to play the characters. _

_I hope you like it, and please review, even if you don't like it so I know where and how to improve it :) _

_Sam, Dean and co will enter after the first few chapters - so please be patient! :) _

_Harlequin x_

I was glad that I had taken the time to walk around the whole yard instead of settling on my first choice of the 1970 Chevelle. Otherwise I would have missed it.

I had been so certain that I wanted the Chevelle, but it was nothing compared to the beauty in front of me.

There, hidden in an overgrown thorn bush, was my dream car. The 1967 Chevrolet Impala I had longed for since I was a kid.

My father had an older model of the car before I was born, but had to sell it when he started his business. So he had been saving up for this car since I could remember. But when he found out he had cancer, he became so ill, so quickly that he didn't have the will power, or the strength to carry out his dreams. But I could.

My father owned his own garage, and I remember him teaching me the mechanics of a car, and how it all worked. Since I was a little girl, he would pull out a stool so I could watch him as he worked. He'd describe each part of the engine to me, and gave me the job of cleaning and waxing each car before he gave them back to the owners.

In fact, my mom used to tell me how he would take me out to the yard or garage ever since I was born. Whenever I started crying, he would climb into his car with me on his lap or cradled in his arms, and turn the engine on. Apparently I settled immediately.

All through my teenage years, I helped out at the garage. Instead of going partying like most girls in my year, I spent all my free time working on cars. The only reason I still attended school was to keep my mom happy.

But when my dad fell ill, I put all my energy into keeping the business running. It was escapism to the nightmare of my reality. A week before he passed away, he signed the garage over to me. He told me how proud he was of me, and how there was no one else he wanted to run his business.

Even now, I strive to make him proud when he looks down on me. So many times I have felt his presence in the garage, and often when I get frustrated at not being able to get a car to run, I'd return the next day to find the part I needed already set out for me.

He sparked my passion for American Muscles, so it was only natural that as soon as I saw her in the over grown bushes, that I wanted her. Sure, she looked completely neglected and probably needed a hell of a lot work, as well as a hefty sum for the parts. But I was convinced I could do it.

I looked around for the man I had talked to earlier, as soon as I saw him, I waved him over. I'm guessing that he thought I was interested in the '69 Mustang sitting beside her, if his shocked expression when I gestured to the Chevy was any indication.

"Darlin', that's not for sale."

"What! Why the hell not?" I couldn't understand why he wouldn't sell her to me. It looks like she's been here for decades, so why wouldn't he want me to take her off his hands?

"It's been here ever since I brought the place twenty years ago, and it's been a pain in my ass ever since. In fact, you're the first person to take an interest. I'm selling her for scrap tomorrow."

"What!" I shouted again, I couldn't believe it, how could he destroy a beautiful car like her?

"I'll buy her. How much do you want?"

He looked at me like I was crazy. "Are you nuts? There's no way anyone can fix her up. She's a lost cause. The engines never worked, and with the bushes growing through it you'll probably have to buy a new one. The bodywork's been dented to $hit, and the boot is jammed shut. There's no way you can pop that out, so you'll probably have to get that redone as well. The repairs are going to cost far more than this car is worth. I'm telling ya darlin', there's no point even trying."

The way he suggested I'd pay someone else to fix it, really grated on my nerves. So many people assume, mostly by my looks as well as my gender, that I know nothing about cars.

I own my own bloody garage for f*ck sake. I'm no novice when it comes to cars. And I already had a rough idea how much the repairs are going to cost. And I honestly don't care whether I'll put more money in than I'll ever get out. This car is going to be totally worth it. I already know she's going to be.

"Look. I don't care how much it's going to cost, or how much work is involved. I've always wanted this car, and I enjoy a challenge. I came here for a summer project, and I've got money saved up for it. I've been looking for this car for years. Hell, I'll even double the amount you're going to get if you sent her for scrap."

"$hit. You really do want her don't ya?"

I nodded. Finally! He f*cking gets it.

"Okay. I'll charge you $1000 for her, including the towing." He agreed. All his reluctance turned to amusement, as I shook his hand to seal the deal. He still thinks I couldn't do it, well I'll f*cking prove him wrong. I'll make sure to drive past here after I fix her up. I can't wait to see his face when he see's her true beauty, she definitely deserves that much.

Driving out of the gravel parking lot, I was bubbling with excitement. She's due to arrive at the garage on Thursday at noon and I couldn't wait to show her off to the boys. We've always competed for the best car, and so far Jay is in the running with his stunning black '79 Roadrunner. But I knew that once I had my beauty up and running, she'll beat them all hands down. Even in the condition she's in now, she's still a strong contestant.

As soon as I entered the garage, Jay looked up from the '66 Shelby he was currently working on. Grease was smearing both his sun darkened skin and his well worn blue overalls, and his short black hair stuck out in all directions. With my latest purchase, and his dishevelled appearance, I fought to keep the disappointed frown on my face.

But now was one of the few times that I was actually glad how Jay's always been able to read my emotions so easily. Even my poor attempt at disappointment caught his attention.

"That bad?" he asked.

I couldn't contain my excitement any longer as my frown turned to a huge grin in less than a second and I was practically bouncing on the spot.

He laughed at me as I ran into his arms and he spun me around a few times before setting me back down on my feet.

"Let me guess, the '67 Impala?"

I tried to speak but only a high pitched squeal left my throat. He laughed at me again, but I could see the shock written all over his face. I never squeal or scream, or do anything remotely girly really. Which confuses a hell of a lot of people as my appearance doesn't exactly scream tom boy - unless when i'm in my overalls obviously.

But never the less, Jay enveloped me in another hug as I attempted to calm down. I knew deep down that I was over reacting slightly - okay, maybe a lot - but I've been searching for his car all my life, and now I've finally found her. I've never been this happy after my dad's death five years ago. And I could tell Jay knew it too.

_Please REVIEW! :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey Y'all! So here's the 2nd chapter, I hope it's long enough, I've edited part of it, but not the end, so please let me know if there's any errors or any improvements to be made. _

_Huge thanks for all the comments, favs and alerts so far, big hugs for you all! :)  
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_Harley :) x_

I didn't get much sleep Wednesday night. I couldn't stop the excitement that bubbled inside me at the thought of finally getting my dream car tomorrow. I'd never thought this day would come. I'd always hoped for it, but after years and years of searching every scrap yard in West Virginia, and even those in the next states, and finding nothing, I refused to get my hopes up.

Of course I've come across a number of Chevy Impala's, but never a '67. And you have no idea how frustrating that is. To finally find the car, but it's a couple of years early or late. But i'm so glad I waited and didn't go for the others. Nothing could compare to her - not even close.

So here I am, laying wide awake staring at the ceiling, feeling like a little kid on Christmas Eve, Every minute feeling like hours, and after 10 minutes I'd finally given up and tossed back the covers to get out of bed. If there was one thing I hated, it was waiting around.

I grabbed my black silk robe I left on the back of the door, and slipped it on. I was only wearing a Cami top and shorts, and f*ck it gets cold at night, even in the summer.

As I walked into the lounge, I flicked the lights on and walked over to the pine cabinet at the far side of the room. I grabbed the bottle of brandy and the glass tumbler I left on the side. Nothing knocks me out better than a glass of Brandy, not even the strongest sleeping pills. I've always been one to over think things far more than I should, so sipping on the brandy is a common occurrence.

After I've finished, I leave the glass on the side to clean tomorrow, as drowsiness washes over me and I make my way to my bed. This time, as soon as my head hits the pillow I fall into a deep sleep.

I wake that morning, feeling refreshed and unbelieving even more excited than last night. Today was the day, and I seriously could wait. I was practically skipping when I walked into the kitchen to get my morning fix of coffee.

And by the time I entered the garage I was bouncing with each step I took. No one else was here yet, so I walked straight to the offices at the back of the garage and sat down at my father's desk, starting the computer up. I don't know why I even bothered coming in here, since I knew I wouldn't be able to sit still, let alone get any work done. Not five minutes had past before I was tapping my pen against the appointment book, flicking my gaze from the computer screen to the clock on the opposite wall every few seconds.

That was how Jay found me when he walked in not ten minutes later.

"So today's the day, huh?" he asked, even though he clearly knew the answer.

"3 hours, and 45 minutes to go." I grinned at him.

He rolled my eyes and me, but his lips betrayed him and turned up into a small smile.

I chucked my pen at him, but he dodged it with a chuckle. "Hey! I could have counted the seconds, but that would have taken it a little too far."

He laughed loudly at that, "And counting the minutes isn't far enough? You know they never turn up on time."

I frowned. "Don't remind me. They bloody better deliver her on time for me, or there'll be hell to pay!"

Luckily for them, they delivered her on time, twenty minutes early actually, earning them both a hefty tip and a place in my good books - both things I hardly ever give out.

The boys stopped what they were doing, and climbed out from the hoods and underneath the cars they're currently working on, to watch as the truck towed her into the gravel parking lot out front.

I was right about their reactions. Their faces were priceless and I wished I had a camera to capture them with. A mix of shock, admiration, envy and sadness at the state of her, flicked across each one of their faces. A rarity, as all of try to constantly keep on their indifferent "tough guy" persona's.

I grinned at them, and as soon as they stopped and unchained her from the back of their truck, I was already standing next to her. I ran my hand along the side of her battered and dented body, loving the feel of the cold rough metal beneath my finger tips.

I barely noticed as the men who delivered her tell me to have a nice day before they drove off. My mind, body and soul, was fixated on my dream, now lying beneath my fingers. I hadn't been able to touch her before, as she was hidden in the thornbush, but now I could, it made it all the more real. She was mine, and I couldn't wait to begin fixing her up and restoring her to her true beauty.

I jumped as a hand landed on my shoulder. I spun around, swinging my fist back to punch who ever it was touching me, when I saw it was Jay. He captured my hand in his own, even though I had already relaxed as soon as I saw it was him.

"Easy there sweetheart." he joked. He knew how much I hated him calling me that. He originally called me 'darlin', after he heard my dad calling me that, but since his death, he thought it would be too close to home - which it was. And changed it to sweetheart. He's refused to call me anything else, much to my annoyance.

I guess that's why so many people have mistaken us for a couple. I hadn't really been in a serious relationship before. Of course I've had several boyfriends in the past, before my Dad became ill. But never serious enough to say I loved them, or that I wanted to settle down with them. Except for my last boyfriend, Matt.

I thought I loved him, but looking back, I don't think I ever did. He was incredibly jealous and overprotective whenever I merely looked at another person other than him - even girls. In the six months I was with him, he'd managed to drive me away from all my friends - and even my own family. I left him right after he hit me, that was when I saw him for who he really was. Of course Jay was furious - to put it mildly - when he saw what he did to me, and stormed after him, only to find he had already left.

He was the last boyfriend I had, not only had he put me off relationships - my Dad was diagnosed with cancer a few months afterwards.

Jay and I have been close ever since. In away he's like a big brother to me, as well as a friend. And I could always count on him for anything, however big or small. He'd always be there for me, and that's how I'd like it to stay. I didn't care whether people thought we were together or not, he's always there for me and that's all that matters.

I tugged my hand out of his, and let it rest back on the chevy, patting her gently. "Beauty isn't she?"

"She sure is. She's gonna need a lot of work doing to her. You sure you can handle it?" I narrowed my eyes at him. "Right, of course you can." he answered.

"Damn right I can! You know how long I've been waiting for her. All the work is going to be worth it. Hell, I'd even do it ten times over, just so I can get her looking like she should."

He nodded at me. "I know you would. But if you need anything, you know where I am."

I smiled. "Cheers." I could always count on Jay to help me. He's done a lot for me the past five years since my father's death. He'd always make sure I was okay, and that I had everything I needed. At times I feel like we co-own the garage, even though it's in my name.

I turned back to get the boys. I desperately wanted to see what they thought. Even though their initial reactions said it all.

"So, What do ya guys think?"

Tom was the first to reply. "Sorry Jay, but I think she's knocked you off the top, _and_ she's a piece of junk at the moment."

"Hey!" I shouted, getting ready to defend my car. Jay sensed this and placed a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back gently.

"She deserves to be on the top, even if she is in a bad state. But trust me on this, once she's finished _no _car could ever compare to her." He told him. "And I don't care if I lost." He added as an after thought.

I couldn't help but smile at his words. As usual, they instantly calmed me, but he didn't remove his hand from my shoulder. And I sought comfort in the warmth and reassurance it sent through me.

Zac, who had obviously learnt from Tom's mistake, said eagerly, "I agree with Jay. I can't wait to see her finished. You gonna sell her or keep her?"

I smirked, "what do you think?"

He laughed. "Right," he nodded. "Definitely a keeper."

_Please let me know what you think, I haven't got an editor, so i'm counting on you guys to tell me if anythings wrong!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the next chapter - sorry for taking a while to update. I'll have the next chapter up tonight =)**

**I actually have 6 chapters uploaded on Wattpad, so if you can't wait til the next updates, feel free to check it out on there. I usually update on there first. The link is on my profile, if it doesn't work then I'm under the same name, so you can find me with that =)**

**Hope you all enjoy it - Thank you so much for all the support! I'm really glad you're all enjoying it so far. **

**~6~6~6~  
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It's been a month since she arrived at the garage, and I've been working on her ever since. There were nights when I couldn't sleep as I couldn't stop thinking of the work I needed to do to her. Those were the nights I'd drive down to the garage and stay up all night working on her.

Of course when Jay arrived in the morning he would go crazy on me for lack of sleep, and 'not taking care of myself'. He'd even gone as far as dragging me to the couch in the office and telling me to sleep for a few hours. It was times like this, when I wished Jay wasn't so overprotective, it's a running joke now, that he's mothering me more than my own mother does. I'd always laugh when the boys would call him "Mom," just to wind him up.

The man at the junk yard was right, I did have to rebuild the engine. But I tried to salvage what I could, rather than buying new parts. When restoring old cars, I always liked to keep as many original parts as possible. Not only does it save money, it also makes it more authentic. Which is exactly what I want with her. Why would I want to fill her with new parts when the old ones are so much better? It defies the point of 'restoring' completely.

I've tried to 'pop' out as much of the denting as I could, and asked Jay to help with the rest. It left a lot of scratches and I knew I'd have to buff them out and repaint the whole car later. Something I was hoping I wouldn't have to, but Tom is the master of painting cars, and there's no one else I would trust to do it more.

The trunk however, is going to be harder than the rest. It needed to be opened before any denting could be removed, and I watched in agony as Jay tried to wrench it open with a crow bar. I blinked back the tears as he added more force, and she made a horrible straining noise, before finally popping open.

What I saw inside, I certainly didn't expect. Attached to the top of the trunk were an array of weapons and guns. The bottom of the trunk was separated into several compartments, all completely filled with even more weapons, a few bags, and is that _salt?_

Who ever owned her before certainly didn't look like those I hoped to meet any time soon. Or any time _ever_. From what they kept in their trunks, they appeared to be serial killers. Or maybe even cannibals, judging by the amount of salt they had.

__Great Cass. __There's probably a body hidden underneath the back seats too.

Jay however, wasn't worried at all. In fact, he seemed excited at the vast array of weapons laid in front of him. He was just about to grab one when I quickly reached out and stopped him.

"Don't touch it! What if it's evidence to a murder?"

He frowned at me for a moment. "You do realise this car has been in that junk yard for two decades. If there ever was a murder case, then it has probably been solved by now. Besides, if we call the cops they'll take them away."

I almost laughed at that, was this the same guy that went ape shit this morning when I stayed up all night? I sighed, "Fine, but don't come to me when you get jailed for a murder committed twenty years ago by some serial killers slash cannibals."

He grinned and picked up one of the rifles eagerly. He checked for bullets, and surprising it was still loaded. He took one of the bullets out and examined it.

" It doesn't look like any bullet I've seen before," he muttered.

He picked up the other rifles, and they all contained the same strange bullets. Shrugging it off, he turned his attention to the black fabric, and unwrapped it to reveal a revolver. It had a wooden handle, with a circle with a star inside inscribed into it.

Jay ran his finger over it, "The pentagram, symbol of protection from evil. But it's upside down, meaning the opposite. It attracts evil and is associated with the occult."

"How do you know that?" I asked him, frowning slightly.

"My mother was a spiritualist, she made us wear a pentagram necklace when we were younger. I still wear it now." he pulled the necklace I noticed him wearing, but never knew what it was. It was a black chain, with a black pentagram pendant with a little red gem in the middle. I was relieved to see the star wasn't upside down like the one etched into the revolver. Well, at least he's not into the occult too.

He examined the gun once more, then turned and walked to the office. I followed him in there, having no idea what he was doing. He started up the computer and set the gun on my fathers desk. A knot formed in my stomach at seeing a weapon which has probably killed many people, sitting on my father's desk. I quickly picked it up, not wanting to see it there another second. The metal felt cold in my hands and sent a shiver down my spine.

I looked up at Jay as he opened up firefox, "There's an inscription on the gun, it's in Latin." I looked back at the gun, as if seeing it for the first time, and there, on the barrel of the gun, was the Latin inscription, "Non Timebo mala."

Curious to see what it meant, I handed it back to Jay, who began to type it into google. He clicked on the first link, and I bent over his shoulder to see the screen better.

"I will fear no evil." He said, at the same time I read it.

"Why would they have inscribed that on their gun? Aren't they Satanists?" I asked him.

"I have no idea. They might be, they did have the occult symbol on the handle, but if they supported Satan, then the inscription doesn't link up. It sounds more like they're against it, but then why have the inverse of the pentagram on the handle? It makes no sense."

"But still, why would they fight evil?" I was still completely confused. Did they kill murderers like Dexter from that TV show? Or were they just psycho?

Jay shrugged, clearly just as clueless as I was. He turned the gun around in his hands, trying to find any other clues as to what it means. But there was none. There was a strange design on the side of the gun, near the trigger. But I didn't think it was anything other than decoration, Jay didn't seem to think it was important either, he just lightly traced the pattern with his finger.

He emptied the barrel and tipped four bullets into his hand. He turned one of them around in his fingers. It had the number 13 engraved into it, while the other three were plain and didn't look as old as the other one. Why would they number their bullets? To keep track of how many people they killed? That meant they killed 12 people already. Maybe even more if they started making more bullets. I swallowed at that thought. Suddenly my dream car wasn't looking so appealing any more.

I went back to the car, searching around the trunk to find if there was anything else that would give us a clue as to who these people are. And why the hell they have such weird weapons in their trunk.

I picked up one of the knives, one side of the blade was jagged, and the handle was made of wood, and like the gun, it was carved with many different symbols and inscriptions. I turned the knife over in my hands, and sure enough, on the other side of the blade was an engraving of unfamiliar symbols. I had no idea what language it was in, so there was no hopes of translating it. I handed it over to Jay to take a closer look at it, while I looked back in the trunk.

I picked up one the three machetes, and turned it around, but there was no engravings or markings. There was also a dagger, along with at least five pistols, and three shot guns. I picked up one of the pistols, it had an ivory handle, and a black engraved barrel.

The rest of the weapons were a little strange to say the least. There was a cross bow, a battle ax, flare guns, salt and batons. Next to one of the shotguns, was a flashlight, a lockpick kit, rope, two pairs of knuckledusters, a wooden mallet and wooden stake, flasks and tasers. In the right corner there were two dark green canvas duffel bags, and a dark green and grey camouflage print circa backpack. I looked inside them, but they were all empty, apart from the camouflage bag which had a pair of these curved, claw like blades. I took them out and handed them to Jay, who put down a pistol and looked at them eagerly. Whoever knew he was such a big fan of weapons?

I turned back to the trunk, and laying next to the bags were three journals, one battered and brown and the others black and slightly worn. There was also a collection of black ID wallets, and I opened them up. Three of them were FBI, and the first thing I looked at was the photo's, and that's what shocked me the most. They certainly didn't look like the mass murdering, cannibalistic type, if anything, they looked kinda hot –_ really hot_. Jay must have noticed the shock on my face, as he grabbed the ID's from me and flicked through them.

He didn't look as shocked as I was, just surprised at how normal they looked compared to the big, burly creepy looking men were were in visioning when we saw the weapons in the trunk. The men in the photo's looked in their late twenties, or early thirties. They looked like ordinary men you'd pass in the street, or dance with in clubs. Not Satanist murderers.

I reached in, and took out the journals, and grabbed the ID's back from Jay. I walked back to the office, and left them on my father's desk. I planned to look at them properly later, but right now, I wanted to get my dream car finished. We were so close now, and despite finding the disconcerting stash of weapons in the trunk, I remembered how long I've searched for this car, and I wasn't going to let go of her that easily.

The boys sauntered in five minutes later, and gathered around the trunk, letting out low whistles when they caught sight of the array of weapons. I don't know why I was so surprised when they grabbed the guns and looked at them in awe. Judging my Jay's reaction, I should have expected it, or at the very least guessed it.

I just shook my head at them, boys will be boys, I mused, and started to buff out the scratches on the side of the car, while they busied themselves with the weapons in the trunk.

I wondered absently where the owners were. Were they going to come back to get her? Would they be annoyed that I've got her? Whoever they were, they didn't look like the type to be messed with, and I strongly hoped I wouldn't have the misfortune to meet them in the future, no matter how good they looked in those fake ID's.


End file.
